𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐊 𝐎𝐔𝐓 | aespa

O4｡ blood moon

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THATS WHAT SHE HAD. A sickness that can overtake her faster than her own ability with racecars.

Addiction.

It has the potential to ruin your life and the lives of those around you in the blink of an eye. It starts small and ends big, like a lit match being dropped into a dry forest. It's a casual thing at first, and you think you can stop cold-turkey, whenever the hell you want. You think you have complete control over your life, until it's already too late. Before you know it, you're in over your head, struggling between the ideas of keeping your friends and family near, or throwing it all away to experience that high one more time.

Luckily for Giselle, her relationship with addiction is only continuing to grow.

Her ears perk up and point at the sound of the roaring engines, and her eyes ignite at the sight of the flashy paint jobs. This is who she is, and she'll absolutely prove it to anyone who catches her eye. Street racing is incredibly illegal all over the world, but this hasn't ever scared Giselle.

Because she knows she's faster than the cops.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spots an unfamiliar red-and-black Chevrolet Corvette Stingray parked two cars down. It was practically asking for attention with its bright color and shiny job. And staring right at her to her surprise, a mysterious boy leans against the side of the car, taking the cigarette from from his mouth, and tossing it to the ground before he crushes it underneath the heel of his shoe. Giselle looks from the cigarette and up to the guy with a quirked brow.

Judging by his looks and mannerisms, she definitely knew he wasn't from around here.

"Hey, Niko. Who's the new guy?" She questioned her friend inside the car to her left. With broad shoulders and bright purple hair, he looked up and followed her line of sight.

He popped his head out through the window. "They say he dropped in from Vancornver?... Vancover? Just Van-something." He continued vibing to the song on the radio of his Bugatti Chiron. "I also heard he's a total nutsack at racing. Another bag of luck for us!"

Giselle chuckles. She's about to say more when the crowd falls silent and high heels click over the pavement. Her eyes linger on the new guy for a second more before she turns to see the flagger walking towards all of the racers.

Black thigh high heels shine against the bright street lights and the ruby red of her lipstick curves up into a smile. The flagger jutting her hip to the side, everyone unlocks their cars. Giselle's door slides open with a soft hiss, violet lights and loud bass music greets her.

"Hey, hotshot." Giselle glances over to the sudden unfamiliar voice calling out to her. Surprise looming across her expression once she sees it belonged to said mystery boy. "See you at the other end of the finish line."

"What?"

Before he even heard her response, the guy sticks out his tongue, the silver barbell of his piercing glinting from the streetlights above. Without another word, he goes into his car―shutting the door. Giselle continues to stare.

"Hey, lover girl, snap out of it!" Niko giggles from her other side, sending her a wink before he ducks into his own car. Giselle says nothing, climbing into her Lamborghini Estampida.

Her long fingers wrap around the steering wheel and she revs up her engine, smiling at its low and rumbling purr. Flicking on her headlights, the flagger is bathed in the glow of everyone's lights and she raises the black and white checkered flag. There's a pause and Giselle's foot hovers over the gas, waiting.